


Honestly Head On

by ShortStoryShorter



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU sort of, Animal Traits, M/M, Slow Burn, ish, t for language, they grow tails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-11-22 15:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11383266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShortStoryShorter/pseuds/ShortStoryShorter
Summary: Kyoutani has issues, Yahaba has feelings, and Watari has to deal with both of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of a random prompt generator with the words honest, wolf, and table.

When Kyoutani’s claws pop out for the fourth time this week, killing yet another ball as he goes to spike and it catches on his claws, deflating with a sad hiss as it hangs from his fingertips, Yahaba snaps—for the fourth time this week. It’s Wednesday.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Yahaba groans. “How much club funds do you think we have? You can’t keep ruining our equipment like this, Kyoutani!”

Kyoutani stifles the growl in the back of his throat and waves the dead volleyball off his hand. “It’s not like I wanna keep doing it!”

“Then stop it! Even kids know how to control their transformations!”

“Do they know how to keep words from coming out of your mouth cuz I might have a solution!”

“Ahem.”

Yahaba and Kyoutani turn when Watari clears his throat and points to the sidelines. Mizoguchi is fuming. Irihata has his arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“Why don’t you two take a break?”

Yahaba and Kyoutani give each other one last glare before mumbling a sulky, “Yes, sir.”

Kyoutani’s tail and ears transformed while they were arguing and make their silent march to the benches even more pathetic with the way they wilt. Kyoutani crouches on his haunches against the wall and aims his water bottle at his mouth as he crushes it. Yahaba stands a full five feet away, considering the nozzle of his water before taking a lengthy sip.

“Like, I get having intense feelings during a game,” Yahaba says after a long time, conversational and casual, like they were picking where they left off. “Maybe then I’d let it slide—“

Kyoutani scoffs.

“But this is practice. What the fuck are you thinking that your emotions come out so completely that you transform in the middle of it? No one is that serious about practice.”

“I’m not serious about practice,” Kyoutani says with a scowl. “I’m serious about volleyball. It’s not satisfying unless you’re always giving it your all.”

Yahaba rolls his eyes. “So I’ve heard.”

“Maybe you should try it,” Kyoutani mutters.

“I _am_ serious.” Yahaba squares his shoulders and looks down at Kyoutani with a curl of his lip. “But I also know how to keep my emotions from getting in the way of the game. Maybe you should try _that_ some time. Who knows. We might manage a practice where we don’t get kicked off the court one day.”

“Maybe if you stopped riding my ass all the time—“

“Maybe if you just listened to me—“

“Maybe if you shut the fuck up—“

“Maybe if you—“

“Ahem.”

 Yahaba and Kyoutani spend the rest of practice fighting under their breaths and running laps around the gym.

 

 

 

Here’s the thing: Everyone is born with their wolf tails, ears, claws, fangs, and whatever else exposed. It’s a sign of maturity when you finally learn how to hide them. When they come out in public, it’s not just rude. It’s childish. Upset and your ears go from human to wolf to fall in disappointment? _Stop acting like a kid._ Ecstatic and your tail pops out to wag wildly? _Stop being so eager._ Heated and your nails sharpen to claws? _Stop damaging the equipment._

Okay, fine. Kyoutani sees where Yahaba is coming from. When he can’t control his transformations, it’s disruptive and they can’t play. It reflects badly on the team and other schools don’t take them seriously. It gets in the way of volleyball. In short, it’s a problem.

But that doesn’t mean he likes that Yahaba’s right. Ever since Kyoutani returned to the team, Yahaba has been relentless. He’s been even worse since the third years retired. Everything Kyoutani does is wrong, just another bullet point on the list of Reasons to Hate Kyoutani Kentarou.

Just thinking about Yahaba and his stupid hair makes Kyoutani’s claws prick into his palms when he clenches his fists. _This_ is his problem. He feels everything too strongly. The most minor annoyances sharpen his claws, and everything else follows soon after and his every emotion is on display in the twitch of his ears or flick of his tail.

He refuses to see Yahaba as anything more than a minor annoyance but the harder he tries the bigger Yahaba’s sneer appears in his mind and the louder his scolding rings in his ears. The more Kyoutani tries to escape him, the harder it gets.

But Kyoutani has never been the kind to run away, so he does what he does best and faces him head on.

“Hey,” Kyoutani grunts to a pair of girls heading into Class 2-5.

They pause and glance at his twitchy ears, which make him reflexively pull his lips back to bare his fangs. They flinch and he snaps his mouth shut, scowling at their shoes.

“Can you get Yahaba for me?” he mutters.

“Huh?” one of them squeaks.

“Yahaba,” Kyoutani snaps. “Stupid hair, stupid face, on the volleyball team. I need to talk to him.”

They squeak something that might be “Okay” and scamper into the classroom. He watches from the doorway as the girls approach one of the desks near the windows. He recognizes the back of that head. The girls say something, hiding their mouths and pointing at Kyoutani fearfully. Yahaba glances at him and sighs, giving the girls a practiced smile of thanks before pushing out of his desk.

“What do you want?” Yahaba says as he pulls Kyoutani further into the hall, his mask of politeness gone completely. “I thought we had an unspoken agreement of minimizing contact inside _and_ outside the club.”

Kyoutani takes a breath to talk, holds it, and lets it out in a huff. This is harder than he thought. He tries again. “Teach me.”

Yahaba squints at him. “What?”

“Teach me how to make this—“ Kyoutani waves at his ears “—not happen anymore.”

Yahaba blinks, frowning. “Wait. You want me to teach you how to control your emotions so you don’t suddenly transform?”

“Something like that.”

Yahaba still looks confused and a little angry until something seems to click. Suddenly his eyes go wide and a grin stretches across his face. He sounds gleeful when he says, “Because of what happened yesterday? Is this you admitting I’m right?”

“I didn’t say that—“

“But it is. Oh my god, this is amazing. The uncontrollable Mad Dog-chan admitting he can’t do something on his own, coming to ask me for help. This is awesome. Hold on, I need to document this, I need to tell Watari, I need to—“

“Fuck off, dipshit. I just don’t know anyone else on the team.”

“Doesn’t change the fact you know I’m right. Finally, something got through that thick skull of yours.”

“Just wait until I break that thick skull of _yours_ , you little—“

“No, no, wait.” Yahaba grabs Kyoutani’s shoulder when he starts to turn away. “Look, I-I’m sorry. This is good. I mean it. I’ll help you, yeah.”

It’s the first time Yahaba has ever apologized to him, but the stupid smirk on his face makes it obvious he still finds this hilarious. Kyoutani is already starting to regret this.

 

 

 

They hang back after the club room clears out after practice. Watari settles down in the corner of the room twirling a pencil and homework open on his lap.

“What are you doing here?” Kyoutani says.

“Supervising,” Watari says, unfazed.

Yahaba lets out a long-suffering sigh. “He said he doesn’t trust us to be alone and make it out of it both alive.”

Kyoutani considers Watari then looks at Yahaba. “He has a point.”

“I told you,” Watari says.

“We can be civil towards each other!” Yahaba insists. “You just need to stop thinking everything I say is me picking a fight!”

“Everything you say _is_ you picking a fight,” Kyoutani says. “Everything I do annoys you.”

“That’s not my fault. Everything you do is annoying.”

“ _You’re_ annoying.”

“Your face is annoying.”

“Bite me!”

“Oi! You guys are here for a reason, remember?” Watari gestures at the ears that have sprouted from Kyoutani’s head.

“When did that happen?” Yahaba says. “What kind of emotion are you possibly overwhelmed with? You barely even look irritated.”

“I told you,” Kyoutani mumbles, embarrassed. “I don’t _wanna_ keep doing it. Can you just teach me how to stop it?”

“Okay, okay. You just, take a deep breath—“ Yahaba’s shoulders lift as he demonstrates, then he taps the center of his chest “—then you keep your emotions here. Don’t let them get to—wherever they go before you change. Instead of feeling it in your fingers or something, just—“ he takes another breath and touches his chest “—keep it here and try not to think about anything.”

Kyoutani gapes at him. “What the fuck? That’s it?”

Yahaba clicks his tongue. “That’s it. I told you, even kids can do it.”

“I didn’t ask you for help just for breathing exercises!”

“Just try it, would you?” Yahaba says, putting a hand on his hip.

Kyoutani huffs, scowling at the ground. He tries taking another deep breath, filling his lungs until they’re near bursting. He tries relaxing his muscles as he lets the air out slowly but he can’t. His whole body is thrumming with energy, determination to get this done and accomplished. His fingers twitch with the urge to clench them into fists, his ears swivel to catch the sounds of Watari’s pencil moving over the page and Yahaba’s breathing, his eyes snap to the shadows of a tree branch moving on the floor, this isn’t working, this is fucking stupid, why did he even bother with this, he must be a fucking idiot, goddamnit—

“Shit!” Kyoutani bursts. He’s panting with anger, frustration, the energy he used up trying to relax and control himself. It didn’t work. It just made him more attuned to the emotions he was trying to bottle up.

Yahaba rolls his eyes. “Well, that was a great first attempt.”

Kyoutani bares his fangs at him and growls.

“Yahaba,” Watari warns.

Yahaba sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just…try again. And maybe this time, try not to look so constipated.”

 

 

 

Kyoutani tries again. And again. And again, everyday after school for the rest of the week and the week after. Nothing works. The best he gets is duller claws and fangs, passable if you ignore the ears and tail that stick around. After one of his failed attempts, Yahaba slumps in exhaustion and wonders why he’s still there. His presence alone is enough to set Kyoutani off and any progress he makes reverses. Watari says it’s beneficial for them both. They need to build up endurance through exposure.

“Kyoutani needs to practice controlling his transformations under pressure,” Watari reasons. “Besides, maybe if you guys keep fighting you’ll get tired of it some time.”

Kyoutani doubts it. He sees it in Yahaba’s eyes. A gleeful spark when they’re at each other’s throats, the same way they light up when a play goes his way. Something that enjoys the challenge, the…release.

Sometimes when they’re fighting, Yahaba loses control. Kyoutani has just enough time to realize Yahaba’s wolf side has come out before it’s gone. Yahaba recovers in a blink and doesn’t even acknowledge it. Watari gives him a look Kyoutani can’t understand but makes Yahaba clear his throat and crack his neck. That’s usually the end of the fight and Yahaba looks looser after. More at ease.

That Kyoutani can’t understand why doesn’t make him feel better. It’s just another thing that pisses him off. Makes it harder to control his emotions. Yahaba pisses him off.

It’s all Kyoutani can think about when he’s trying not to think about anything. He’s hyperaware of the three feet and eight inches that separate them as they sit cross legged across from each other on the floor of the club room. His eyes are closed but Yahaba’s disapproving brown eyes are stamped onto the back of his eyelids. With each breath Yahaba takes, Kyoutani swears he can feel the exhale raise goosebumps across his skin. His ears ring with Yahaba’s steady heartbeat.

“I can’t focus,” Kyoutani mumbles, opening his eyes to stare at the tatami mat between them. It feels like admitting defeat.

“There’s no one else here,” Yahaba says shortly.

“Hello,” Watari says, not lifting his eyes from his homework.

“You’re gonna have to work with a lot more distractions than this on the court, Kyoutani,” Yahaba says. “Try again. This time, don’t try to block out the distractions, use them. If you think about something long enough, you stop thinking about it.”

Kyoutani scowls at him. “That’s stupid advice.”

Yahaba gives him a flat look. “Just do it, will you?”

Kyoutani huffs and closes his eyes. “Fine. But it’s still stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” Yahaba says under his breath.

“ _You’re_ stupid.”

“You’re both stupid,” Watari says, effectively ending the argument.

Kyoutani takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. After a minute of zero progress, he starts to think Yahaba’s advice is still stupid but maybe there’s something to it.

Instead of trying to block it out, Kyoutani listens to Yahaba’s breathing, tries to match it with the rhythm of his own. His pulse overlaps with Yahaba’s until they come together to create one steady beat. The distance between them collapses.

Kyoutani feels…something. But at the same time, he doesn’t think of anything.

Yahaba’s voice breaks into his calm.

“Oh my god, you did it.”

Kyoutani opens his mouth, ready to snap, until he registers Yahaba’s words. His eyes open wide and he’s greeted with a wide, sincere smile on Yahaba’s face.

“You did it!” Yahaba says, flailing his hands in Kyoutani’s general direction.

Kyoutani raises a hand to keep Yahaba from hitting him. Their palms smack together in a high five that takes Kyoutani by surprise. He’s about to pull back when Yahaba grips his hand and pulls him close. His free hand reaches for the back of Kyoutani’s neck and squeezes, cheering freely and loudly. Kyoutani has never seen him so unrestrained off the court.

Yahaba moves his hand from the back of Kyoutani’s neck to the top of his head, messing up his hair where his ears would be. But they’re not. Kyoutani runs his tongue over his human teeth and he can’t move his tail because it’s not there.

He did it.

“I did it,” he says.

“You did it!” Yahaba confirms. He releases his hold on Kyoutani and gets to his feet, stretching his hands over his head. “All right! I think now’s a good time for celebratory ramen! C’mon, Watari! It’s on Kyoutani!”

“In your dreams, you little shit!” Kyoutani shouts after Yahaba as he leaves the clubroom. Kyoutani’s eyes land on the hand Yahaba held onto. He flexes it, trying to remember the warmth of Yahaba’s skin against his.

He looks up to find Watari staring directly at him. Watari’s already packed up and ready to go but neither of them say anything. Kyoutani hardly even breathes. He feels like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t be.

Yahaba pokes his head into the door. “Are you guys coming or not?”

Kyoutani stuffs his hand in his pocket, like it’ll hide whatever he’d been thinking. Whatever that had been.

“Yeah,” Watari says. Then meeting Kyoutani’s eyes again, he says, “Congratulations.”

Kyoutani doesn’t like the smirk that plays on his mouth as he leaves.

 

 

 

The next day Yahaba yanks on the back of Kyoutani’s shirt when he turns to leave the clubroom.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Kyoutani snarls, throwing off Yahaba’s hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Yahaba says, putting his hands on his hips.

“Home. Practice is over or didn’t you get the memo while you were fixing your hair.”

“You still need to get the hang of controlling your transformations. Or did you think just because you did it once you didn’t need to practice anymore?”

Yes, but that’s not exactly why. He wasn’t sure if Yahaba would still be willing to help him. He didn’t want to be the one alone in the clubroom waiting for Yahaba to never show up if he was done with him.

He looks at his feet and tries not to feel so relieved.

After a second, he hears Yahaba let out a puff of laughter. “What, are you that happy about it?”

“Fuck off,” Kyoutani mutters and tries to quell the wagging of his tail.

“Careful,” Yahaba says, settling down on the floor. “Our babysitter had to bail today. If you start something, we won’t have anyone to get in our way.”

Kyoutani sits across from him. “You’re the one that starts it.”

“Am not. Try doing what you did yesterday.”

“Are too. And I would’ve done that without you telling me.”

“It was just a suggestion, geez, do you have to take everything so personally?”

“I’m not taking it personally, I’m telling you I know what I’m doing.”

“If you really knew we wouldn’t be here right now, would we.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, you little—“

“You know exactly what it—“

Yahaba’s phone plays a little tune, making them pause. 

“I have a message,” Yahaba huffs. He flips it open, reads the message, and sighs, dropping his face into his hand. To Kyoutani’s surprise, he turns the screen to Kyoutani.

Kyoutani hesitates before reading it.

It’s a message from Watari that says, _Stop it._

 

 

 

Kyoutani thinks about Yahaba when he practices controlling his transformation. Sometimes it works and Yahaba cheers, clapping Kyoutani on the back or giving him a solid high five, announcing a celebratory meal on Kyoutani (Watari offers to cover half of it and Yahaba feels bad enough about Watari paying that he agrees they should just buy their own meals).

Most of the time it doesn’t work.

Thinking about Yahab is weird, fills him with emotions he can’t understand and refuses to analyze. Sometimes it calms him down, puts him at ease in a way he never thought anything could. A lot of the time, too, Yahaba still has the uncanny ability to piss him off just by breathing funny. But most of the time thinking about Yahaba makes something in his chest and stomach swirl and his heartbeat gets unsteady, like his pulse and his emotions are racing but his emotions keep lagging behind. Kyoutani has always been a physical person. His body knows what his mind doesn’t before he even realizes he doesn’t know something.

Or so Yahaba observes when Kyoutani throws his arms in the air with a frustrated yell after another failed attempt.

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Yahaba says, considering Kyoutani, rubbing his chin with his knuckle. “You’re so emotionally constipated that your body has to tell you what’s going on before you finally catch on.”

“Who are you calling emotionally constipated, you shallow cream puff?” Kyoutani snarls.

Yahaba raises an eyebrow at the insult but doesn’t acknowledge it further. “Your default emotion is pissed off. Maybe try understanding your emotions instead of getting angry when you don’t know what they are. It’ll be easier to control them when you know what you’re trying to control.”

Kyoutani starts to protest Yahaba’s bullshit advice out of reflex but reconsiders. It makes a strange sort of sense if he thinks about it. He always charges into things head first and by the time he realizes what’s happening, his tail has already sprouted out of his ass.

“Sounds like it takes a lot of time,” Kyoutani says, because admitting Yahaba is right (again) makes him want to gag.

Yahaba gives him a flat look. “Because, like I said. Emotionally constipated.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck _you_.” 

“ _Please_ ,” Watari groans. “Not with me in the room.”

 Yahaba and Kyoutani frown at each other then at him.

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” Yahaba says.

 “Nothing, nothing,” Watari mutters, curling even closer into his homework. “Just get on with fixing the constipation.”

 

 

 

Yahaba was right, in a way; Kyoutani is not all that complicated. His strongest feelings are centered around volleyball and identifying them aren’t all that hard: determination, frustration, anger, satisfaction, exaltation. The list goes on but it’s a simple list. Next would be his family: love, affection, protectiveness, and so on. Next school, then food, then his slim list of friends, then his teammates, then…

Kyoutani goes down the list and figuring out the emotions that surround them is pretty easy. They all feel familiar, easy to identify, maybe not so easy to reign in enough for his transformations to stop but he’ll figure that part out eventually. He knows all these feelings, knows what to do with them, and he starts feeling pretty satisfied with himself until he starts thinking about Yahaba.

He’s not even sure how or why Yahaba popped into his brain but suddenly there he is and with him is that weird swirly feeling in his chest and stomach and his pulse takes off and his emotions can’t catch up. Suddenly Kyoutani’s feelings are a lot more complex than he was prepared to deal with and he’s not sure what to do with that.

Talking about it after practice the next day is harder to do than he thought. Even more when Yahaba gets mad.

“What the—Are you blaming _me?”_ Yahaba says. “Like it’s my fault you’re transforming all the time?”

“That’s not what I said, idiot!”

Watari hums from the corner then says, “Well, lately, Kyoutani does only transform when he’s sharing the court with Yahaba. Maybe you are the problem.”

“Whose side are you on, Watari!” Yahaba snaps.

“I’m not saying _you’re_ the problem!” Kyoutani says. “I’m saying _my_ problem _is_ you!”

Watari collapses with laughter and Yahaba glares at him then settles it on Kyoutani. “That’s the same thing, you moron.”

Kyoutani frowns and plays the words over in his head. He thought he made his point clear.

Yahaba huffs and crosses his arms. “I’ve spent nearly a month trying to help you and now you’re saying my existence is the problem. Great, way to make a guy feel appreciated.”

“I keep telling you, that’s not what I said!”

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Yahaba says, ignoring him. “Of course you’d make no progress with me around. It’s like this every single time we try talking. Just being around each other is _counter_ productive! Why did you even bother asking me?”

“I asked you cuz you are the fakest person I know! I figured if there was anyone that could teach me to control my emotions it’d be you!” Kyoutani snaps. He’s tired of Yahaba going on like he knows what Kyoutani’s thinking. He’s tired of Yahaba thinking he understands Kyoutani at all. Yahaba doesn’t know anything.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Yahaba says.

“It means this nice guy act of yours makes me fucking sick! You pretend to be this proper _everything_ when really, you are just so controlling you even need to control what people _think_ about you!”

“You’re in fucking luck, then, because I don’t give a shit what you think about me!”

“Good! Because _this_ Yahaba that snaps at everything I say is intense and angry and I don’t get why you can’t just let go around other people the same way you do around me! _This_ Yahaba is just fucking honest and I don’t get why he isn’t around more often!”

“Wh—are you saying you _like_ when I don’t give a shit about you?”

“ _No!_ I’m saying I like _you_ when you don’t give a shit about anything!”

Yahaba’s mouth opens and closes, brow furrowed in anger, and his face goes red. Kyoutani is so proud of himself for making Yahaba speechless that it takes a moment for him to fully register his own words. When he does, blood rushes to his face, dyeing him the same bright red as Yahaba. He can’t believe he said that, it sounded like—

“That sounded like a confession, didn’t it?” Watari says happily.

Yahaba and Kyoutani jump, both their tails standing straight up with them. They’d both been so caught up in their fight they hadn’t realized they’d transformed and had forgotten Watari was still in the room with them.

“Th-that wasn’t—I didn’t mean it like—“ Kyoutani stutters, eyes going between Watari and Yahaba. He doesn’t know how to get out of this. Words have never been his thing and he doesn’t know how to erase his from the world. Because the more his own words and Watari’s words replay in his head the more sense they make. The more he feels the weird emotions swirling inside of him settle with every repetition of _I like Yahaba._

Just when he feels his flight instincts about to take over, Yahaba moves.

Yahaba grabs his things and rushes out the door without even taking a moment to fix his transformation. He quite literally turns tail and runs.

The door swings shut and somehow, it feels like Yahaba got the final word in.

Kyoutani turns to look at Watari, who looks just as shocked.

“Uuuuh,” Watari says. Kyoutani has never seen him struggle for words before.

“Uh, don’t mind,” Watari tries again. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a rejection. I think.”

 

 

 

It feels like a rejection. Especially when Yahaba does everything he can the next day to avoid acknowledging Kyoutani’s existence. Yahaba runs to the other side of the gym during practice, forcing Kyoutani to practice with one of the other reserve setters that quake in his sneakers when Kyoutani looks in his direction. When Kyoutani goes to his classroom at break, one of the girls he recognizes from before tells him Yahaba just left to run an errand for a teacher. Practice after school is just like the morning, putting Kyoutani in an even worse mood and scaring the reserve setter even more.

After practice, Kyoutani and Watari wait in the clubroom for almost an hour before Kyoutani gives up.

“I still don’t think it’s a rejection,” Watari says.

Kyoutani is halfway out the door but he pauses. He doesn’t turn or respond but he’s still for another moment before he finally goes home.

 

 

 

When Kyoutani goes to Yahaba’s classroom the next day, the same girl from before tells him Yahaba just left. Kyoutani resists the urge to punch the wall but it’s a near thing and he transforms anyway.

The girl glances up at Kyoutani’s ears for a beat too long.

“What?” he snarls.

Her eyes go wide and she raises her hands, like she’s about to wave him off, but hesitates when she opens her mouth. She seems to steel herself against something before she says, “Nothing, just…you’re on the volleyball team with Yahaba-kun, right?”

Kyoutani scowls. “So?”

“I was just…is everything okay with him? He’s been acting a little, off in class and I thought maybe it had something to do with volleyball."

“What do you mean ‘off’?”

“He’s usually a really good student and really on top of things, but he’s been zoning out lately and not knowing the answer when the teacher calls on him but whenever anyone asks him, he just says he’s tired. And then yesterday, he—I’ve never seen him do this before, but yesterday in the middle of class, he transformed and he had to go to the nurse’s office for twenty minutes before he finally came back fully human.”

Kyoutani blinked, still frowning. “Twenty minutes?”

“I know it’s not really _that_ long, but I heard his friends teasing him during lunch about how he’s usually able to get his transformations under control in, like, two.” She looks down at the floor. “I don’t know, I just thought maybe you’d know if something was up.”

She turns to go back to her seat but looks at Kyoutani when he says, “Thanks.”

For another second, they just stare at each other before she smiles and he leaves.

 

 

 

He doesn’t bother waiting in the clubroom today. Instead, he’s the first one out.

Ten minutes later, Yahaba stops dead in his tracks when he sees Kyoutani waiting at the gate. His eyes go from side to side like a rat caught in a trap. His tail appears first, followed by his ears and probably his fangs and then claws, if Kyoutani were close enough to see them. Yahaba turns, as if going back to the clubroom will make Kyoutani disappear.

“Hey,” Kyoutani says, making Yahaba freeze and his tail stand straight up. “Do I scare you that much?”

Yahaba turns with an indignant frown, like Kyoutani knew he would. “You don’t scare me.”

“Prove it. Buy me ramen.” Kyoutani walks away without looking back. It’s silent long enough for Kyoutani to think he’d been wrong until he hears footsteps hitting pavement and Yahaba is at his side, standing tall to make use of the little height he has over Kyoutani.

“I’m not buying you shit,” Yahaba huffs.

Kyoutani’s tail wags and he keeps his eyes on the street. “Someone has to cuz it sure as shit ain’t gonna be me.”

They bicker all the way to the restaurant. Kyoutani’s scowling hard and his tail is wagging fast and the waitress gives the pair of them a funny look as she takes their order. By the time Kyoutani finishes inhaling his bowl, Yahaba is only halfway done.

“No matter how many times I see it, I still can’t believe how you do it,” Yahaba says, mildly disgusted.

Kyoutani stares as Yahaba finishes the rest of his meal. He stares at Yahaba’s long fingers tipped with neatly trimmed claws, the tendons of his neck as he swallows, the furrow between his thin pale eyebrows, his ears at the top of his head as they flick with discomfort, the pink tinge his cheeks turn when neither of them have said anything for five minutes and Kyoutani does nothing but stare.

Yahaba’s eyebrow twitches. “Do you mind?”

“No.”

Yahaba puts his chopsticks down and glares at him. “Then I mind. Stop staring at me. It’s creepy.”

“Only if you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.”

Yahaba’s eyes flash with irritation, sliding to the side. “I haven’t been avoiding you. And if I was, it’s only been a day.”

“Is it the same reason why your tail hasn’t stopped wagging since we got here?”

“Why hasn’t your tail stopped wagging?”

“You know why.”

That takes Yahaba by surprise. But he should know by now: Kyoutani is not afraid of his feelings. He accepts them wholeheartedly and feels them with every fiber of his being. He’s not like Yahaba, who keeps his emotions at arm’s length to put up a carefree front. Kyoutani’s honest, and once he realized what his feelings for Yahaba were he refused to run from them, no matter how painful it was to admit. Now he’s not going to let Yahaba run from them either. They both needed to face this head on.

“Look,” Kyoutani says when Yahaba says nothing. “It’s not like I’m happy about it either but that’s where we are, whether we like it or not. I like you for the shallow cream puff you pretend to be and the pretentious prick you actually are. If you can’t deal with that, tell me now so we can both try to put this behind us.”

Yahaba looks down into his empty bowl.

Kyoutani sighs. “All I’m asking for is a straight answer, Yahaba.”

“Those are the kinds I suck at the most,” Yahaba mutters.

“Yeah, I’m realizing.” And since he’s already made himself vulnerable, he figures he might as well go all or nothing, so he says, “Look. I don’t do things half-assed. If you don’t reject me now, I’m—“ Kyoutani takes a deep breath. “I’m just gonna fall harder for you. If there’s even a shred of hope I’m not gonna stop. If you care about me even a little, even if it’s just as some pain in the ass teammate, I need you to give me an answer now.”

Yahaba meets Kyoutani’s gaze with wide eyes. Kyoutani’s hands bunch the fabric of his pants but he refuses to look away. He needs Yahaba to understand this. Kyoutani is willing to be serious about his feelings, he’s willing to be vulnerable, but he’s not going to let Yahaba hurt him.

“You—“ Yahaba starts. He licks his lips and his eyes fall to the table, his head following soon after, narrowly missing his bowl. “I don’t _get_ you. How can you be so stupidly honest about everything?”

“Say that to my face, you little—“

“I’m not insulting you, I’m…” Yahaba trails off. After a second he shakes his head into the table and rests his cheek on it so he can look at Kyoutani. His stupid hair is messed up and he looks helpless but the smile tugging at his mouth is soft and genuine.

It takes Kyoutani by surprise. His ears stand straight up, goosebumps go down his arms in waves, and his face bursts into flame.

Yahaba snickers. “You’re so easy to read.”

Kyoutani tries to come up with something to snap back but comes up empty when Yahaba’s smile settles back into the unfair one that makes Kyoutani wonder if getting over Yahaba will be as simple as he made it sound.

Then suddenly Yahaba slides his hand across the table, palm up, looking at Kyoutani expectantly, and Kyoutani wonders if he’ll have to.

He hesitates, trying to read the emotions in Yahaba’s eyes, then places his hand in Yahaba’s.

Kyoutani hadn’t realized how tense Yahaba was until his muscles sag completely with an exhale of relief. He holds Kyoutani’s hand just like that for a second, flat on the table, palm to palm, before adjusting them so that their fingers slide against each other then link. The tips of Yahaba’s claws brush the back of Kyoutani’s hand. He stares, fascinated.

“I’ll be honest, Kyoutani,” Yahaba says, his voice, eyes, touch, everything about him seeping with affection. “This is the best I can do for a straight answer.”

Kyoutani grips his hand tighter and grins, his tail wagging wildly. “It’s a start.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Watari at some point making a gay joke: “Well, if you think about it, it’s not really a straight answer either way.”
> 
> Yahaba at some point playing along: “Straight as a rainbow.”
> 
> Kyoutani all the time: “I hate both of you.”)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yahaba is desperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because he is.

Kyoutani and Yahaba are walking side by side after practice one day when Yahaba glances down at Kyoutani’s hand and wonders what would happen if he held it.

He knows what Kyoutani’s hand feels like. He’s managed a few high fives out of Kyoutani during games and practice, and when he’s helping Kyoutani with his transformations. And one night two weeks ago, he held it and confirmed everything he’d thought of it before: sturdy and calloused but unsure, almost timid. Not like he isn’t used to physical contact, but more like he doesn’t understand the meaning behind it. What does Yahaba mean by these touches?

(What _does_ he mean by those touches?)

Kyoutani looks at him and Yahaba looks up at the trees, says something about the seasons changing any time now, and keeps his hands by his sides.

 

 

“I thought you two got your shit together already,” Watari says, uncaring and unfazed as usual.

They’re in Yahaba’s room with their schoolwork laid out on the small table in front of them. His dad pokes his head in periodically to ask if they want any snacks and make sure they stay on task. 

When his dad comes in, Watari and Yahaba are perfect students. The second he’s gone, Yahaba blurts out every disgusting, sappy, insecure thought he has about Kyoutani.

Yahaba groans, collapsing his upper body on the table. “I don’t know, he hasn’t mentioned it since—and I don’t know how to bring it up without making it seem like I’m desperate or something.”

“But you are desperate or something.”

Yahaba wants to disagree—on principle, if nothing else—but the fluttery feeling in his stomach and the warmth in his chest that follow the thought of Kyoutani prove Watari’s point. 

He spent a month staring at Kyoutani’s face, watching it contort in frustration and skepticism with every piece of advice Yahaba gave as he tried to verbalize instincts he never fully thought about. Sure, Yahaba was good at keeping a leash on his emotions but that was just something he did. He never thought about how he was so good at controlling his transformations and voicing things he did by instinct resulted in frustration for both of them. But Kyoutani didn’t back down. It was like everything Yahaba said was a challenge so Kyoutani was determined to succeed just to prove him wrong. Which would have been more of a nuisance than anything if Yahaba could ignore him. 

But for a month, Kyoutani had been right there. Every fight and celebration, sarcastic comment and outburst of frustration, determined bunching of his eyebrows and almost childish pout when Yahaba critiqued him—Yahaba couldn’t run away from it.

And it had been annoying and uncomfortable and fun and enlightening and torturous and every time Yahaba thinks about Kyoutani he instantly goes boneless and drops onto the nearest surface because _Kyoutani_ , which is, frankly, both pathetic and inconvenient.

Like now, because Watari has no sympathy, his dad checks in again, and although Yahaba puts up a good front, he has made no progress with his schoolwork. At the very least, he hasn’t transformed. That would have been downright humiliating.

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to bring it up,” Watari reasons after Yahaba’s dad leaves. “He never said he’d try to win you over, just that he wouldn’t stop liking you, right? As far as he’s concerned, the ball’s in your court now. He’s just waiting for the return.”

Yahaba twirls a pencil, considering. “That is some very sound and mature advice you got there, Watari-san.”

Watari preens. “Thanks.”

“A bit too sound and mature,” Yahaba says, squinting at Watari. “Almost like you’ve just been waiting to say that to me.”

Which could only mean one thing.

“You talked to Kyoutani!”

Watari looks away and laughs like Yahaba just stepped on his foot. “What, what? No I didn’t—“

“What did he say? Did he say anything about me? Obviously you guys talked about me, but like, did he say anything? Watari.” Yahaba reaches across the table and grabs the front of Watari’s shirt with both hands, forcing his eyes on him. Yahaba puts on the most pathetic face he can pull. “You need to tell me. I’m going crazy.”

Watari grimaces, almost disgusted, brushing Yahaba’s hands off him. “Stop with the act, will you? It’s sad.”

Yahaba throws his hands in the air, letting his true irritation surface. “C’mon, Watari! Just tell me! What did he say?”

Watari clicks his tongue and huffs. “I’m not betraying Kyoutani’s trust just because you don’t know how to handle real feelings. If you really want to know what he said, ask him yourself.”

Which is the last Watari has to say about the situation, even though Yahaba pesters him until both of their transformations threaten to make appearances. For better or worse, Yahaba’s dad comes in, announcing he’s known Yahaba’s been goofing off the whole time and maybe it’s time Watari go home. Watari agrees, leaving Yahaba dying of confusion, curiosity, and unfinished homework.

 

 

The next day, Yahaba stares at Kyoutani while pretending he doesn’t give a shit about Kyoutani. It’s a delicate balance but one he thinks he manages until after school practice is over, Watari tells Yahaba, “I’m not sticking around to watch you act like an idiot around Kyoutani. It’s getting boring.”

Yahaba watches Watari leave. _Well, fuck._

“Where’s he going this time?”

Yahaba jumps three feet in the air, his wolf ears making a brief appearance before he returns them to normal. When he turns, Kyoutani scowls at him and they’re the only ones left in the clubroom.

“What’s wrong with you?” he says.

Yahaba shakes his head too hard. “Nothing, nothing. Uh, you know Watari, he’s a loser with no loyalties. No idea what’s up with him.”

Kyoutani nods but his scowl remains. “Meaning you guys had a fight and he’s leaving for your own good.” He tuckers down on a bench. “Meaning you guys probably had a fight about me. Meaning we probably need to talk.”

“W-w-w-whaaat?” Yahaba stammers, trying to keep cool. By the look Kyoutani gives him, he fails. He runs a hand through his hair, hoping it doesn’t look too obvious he’s checking for signs of his transformation. (He’s fine for now.) “Don’t say it like that, ‘We need to talk!’ It sounds like we’re breaking up or something!”

Kyoutani blinks. “Breaking up?”

Yahaba blinks. “I-I mean…not that there’s anything to break, because we’re not—not that I would mind if there were something to break—not that I would _want_ to break it at all—but what I mean to say is say something, Kyoutani, please, because I’m babbling like an idiot right now.”

Kyoutani scoffs. “You’re always an idiot.”

“I’m trying to have a serious conversation here,” Yahaba says, totally not pouting. 

Kyoutani’s lip curls. “Is that what you were doing?”

“Seriously, can you not be an asshole for two minutes?”

“You first.”

“What the fuck!”

“What are we even talking about, Yahaba! Is it about my attitude again? Because I told you, I’ll fix mine when you fix yours!”

Yahaba gapes at him. “Did you not hear me talk about breaking up?”

Kyoutani dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “I zone you out when you start freaking out like that.”

Yahaba scowls. “You’ve been spending too much time with Watari.”

“Yahaba, answer the question. What are we talking about?” Kyoutani’s tone grows steel where the heat of anger once was. Yahaba doesn’t know how to handle it. There is no fire in his voice, almost no feeling at all. Yahaba’s used to being overwhelmed by Kyoutani’s emotions but this is like being cut off completely. He hates it.

Yahaba takes a deep breath and sits down next to Kyoutani, close enough their arms almost brush. Yahaba doesn’t have to look at Kyoutani directly but their new proximity is a different challenge.

He takes another deep breath. “I want to talk about…us.”

“What about us? I thought we were doing fine. I’m coming to practice, you’re getting used to being captain, I can spike your shitty tosses—“

“Not—not that us.” He pauses. “Although we’re getting back to my perfectly fine tosses later. I meant, you know… _us.”_ He leans on the word, glancing at Kyoutani through the fringe of his hair. 

Kyoutani looks back at him, his brows still bunched in confusion, but when he meets Yahaba’s eyes it’s like something clears up. The wrinkles grow deeper and are joined by a light shade of pink and wolf ears sprouting from his head. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“What about us?”

Yahaba feels irritation rise at the question but the pink of Kyoutani’s cheeks grows deeper and his ears flick about nonstop. He recalls what Watari said last night. The ball’s in his court. Kyoutani’s waiting for the return.

His mouth goes dry when he tries to answer. It takes him a few tries to finally spit something out. “I think I want to know…if there _is_ an us.”

“Oh.” Kyoutani frowns down at his hands. “You haven’t given me an answer yet. I mean, like, a _real_ answer. I thought…I mean, I didn’t think you…”

Then it’s Yahaba’s turn to say, “Oh.”

Because what else can he say? 

He’s spent so long carefully navigating the way other people perceive him that it hasn’t even occurred for him try understanding himself. He doesn’t know if he likes Kyoutani. He’s never felt that way about anyone and he’s not even sure he _wants_ to like Kyoutani—a boy that makes his blood boil, an honest idiot that makes him feel like he doesn’t have to pretend, someone who faces everything head on with such a contagious earnestness that Yahaba feels like maybe he doesn’t have to run away either. 

But with that, Yahaba knows exactly what to say.

“You’re kind of an idiot for liking someone like me.”

Kyoutani rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve told myself that before.”

“I’m sort of an idiot too.”

Kyoutani glances at him, raising one eyebrow.

“I think…” Yahaba meets Kyoutani’s eyes and presses on before his courage gives out. “I think that means we go together pretty well.”

Kyoutani faces him fully, eyes wide and jaw slack.

Yahaba licks his lips and he feels his fangs against the inside of his mouth. He’s surprised he’s put his transformation off this long with how overwhelmed he is by _everything._

“I’m not good with feelings, but I think I want to get better. And I want to do that with you. So if you don’t mind helping me out, do you…” He tries to smile. “Will you go out with me?”

The effect isn’t immediate. Kyoutani holds his gaze with the same wide-eyed surprise long enough for Yahaba to think he’s been rejected if it weren’t for the way Kyoutani seems to have short circuited. 

His patience pays off when blood rushes to Kyoutani’s face so fast, steam from the heat practically erupts from his head. His mouth snaps shut but his eyebrows scrunch tighter together. His back and ears goes ramrod straight, his fists ball up the loose fabric of his shorts, and Yahaba has never seen him so tense.

It is the most adorable thing Yahaba has ever seen.

Everything in him relaxes, like he’s letting out a breath he’s been holding since he and Kyoutani have been alone. A relieved laugh escapes him and he tries to cover it with his hand in case Kyoutani gets the wrong idea. 

“Is that a yes?” Yahaba says, his tail wagging at high speed.

Kyoutani’s embarrassed frown grows deeper and his ears flatten against his head. He doesn’t look away. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Don’t be adorable,” Yahaba retorts easily, leaning into Kyoutani so his chest presses against Kyoutani’s arm.

Kyoutani sputters, making Yahaba laugh again. Kyoutani glares at him but the effect is lost combined with the blush still staining his cheeks. 

“How can you be so sure of yourself all of a sudden?” Kyoutani mutters sulkily. 

Yahaba’s burst of confidence is a surprise to him too, but not really at the same time. He might not know how he feels but he knows how Kyoutani feels. Kyoutani likes him and for now, that’s enough.

“Can I kiss you?” he says instead of answering.

Kyoutani lowers his eyes to where they’re touching and brushes his palm against Yahaba’s chest. He meets his eyes again, his short straight lashes captivating from this close. Yahaba’s already leaning in when the hand presses harder against his chest, claws nearly pricking skin.

“I don’t kiss on the first date,” Kyoutani growls.

He stands up and leaves Yahaba on the bench, alone and completely cowed over by how effected he is. He collapses onto the bench and groans, feeling boneless and pathetic because _Kyoutani._ Which has been inconveniencing him for weeks and is something he might as well get used to because he probably won’t get over him any time soon. He plans on keeping Kyoutani around for a while anyway.

“Let’s go home,” Kyoutani says. “We’re not getting anything done today.”

Yahaba considers putting up a fight just for the sake of it but he catches sight of Kyoutani’s tail, wagging with a speed he’s never seen before. His own tail isn’t calming down either and his pulse is beating so fast, it’s like the two are racing to see which can ruin him first. Going home is probably for the best. Neither of them are controlling their transformations any time soon but maybe that’s okay. Maybe he doesn’t need to control his transformation all the time. Maybe he doesn’t need to control himself all the time.

Deciding that is a convincing enough argument to follow his whims, Yahaba sits up and raises an eyebrow at Kyoutani. “How do you feel about hand holding on the first date?”

Kyoutani is all for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Watari when he hears the good news: “You’re welcome.”
> 
> Yahaba when Watari takes credit for his relationship: “Fuck you very much.”
> 
> Kyoutani all the time: “Why am I even here?”)


End file.
